Why She Runs: To Adapt To Motherhood

Despite my best efforts, I was unprepared for what life with a newborn would be like.

I knew I would be tired but there was no way to comprehend the level of sleep deprivation that would kick in after the first couple of days home with my son. I had no idea how much I would cry from exhaustion and from hormonal highs and lows. And I had no idea how physically and emotionally demanding a 5-pound, 15-ounce human could possibly be.

I couldn’t wait to get cleared to run again after my C-section. Pre-pregnancy, I was a middle-of-the-pack runner with a number of 5Ks, 10Ks and a half marathon under my belt, and I ran throughout most of my pregnancy (though my run turned into more of a “wog”—a walk/jog—in the last few weeks of my third trimester), so I thought running might be the one thing that would stay the same amid the change in the rest of life. But instead, running was slow and painful. And in my sleep-deprived body, with its wider and looser hips, bigger boobs, fluffy midsection and four-inch scar across my abdomen, I was essentially a beginner again.

My first several runs postpartum were a metaphor for my first few weeks home with my son. They were excruciatingly difficult. I tried to go at a pace I couldn’t maintain. I tired quickly. I reminisced about a time when my body knew what it was doing, when I knew what I was doing, and when I didn’t feel like I was just going through the motions in an exhausted, sluggish haze.

It was frustrating. I didn’t feel like myself, and I didn’t feel I was where I should be as a runner or as a mother. I wanted to be better and I figured the best way to get there was to treat both newborn care and my return to the sport I loved like I was in training.

I rested up as best one can with a baby who eats every three hours. I fueled up (and may have on more than one occasion found myself at the kitchen counter eating pasta, drinking Gatorade and mumbling “Refueling” with my eyes half-closed). I hydrated. I celebrated the good days: the days where I got a few consecutive hours of sleep and the days where my runs felt like they required less effort and I saw a glimmer of my old self. On the bad days – the days where I would run for maybe just a minute or two before needing to walk, the days where I got maybe four hours of sleep total and sobbed while changing poopy diapers – I congratulated myself for trying and told myself the next day would be better.

I kept at it. I didn’t quit, even when I really, really wanted to. And, gradually, the tough stuff began to pass and things started to feel easier as I became more adept both as a runner and mom.

Running, with its demands that I mentally focus and take care of my body, ultimately made my transition to motherhood easier. And becoming a parent improved my running, requiring that I make it a priority and get the most out of each workout in the limited time I had.

Three months later, I’m more comfortable in my skin but still have days where I feel like I have a ways to go as a mother and as a runner. But I know if I keep moving forward, one foot in front of the other, I’ll get there.